


En Ami/En Amor

by The_Reverend



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-13
Updated: 2013-10-13
Packaged: 2017-12-29 08:36:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1003288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Reverend/pseuds/The_Reverend
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“The truth will be different than what you imagined” cautioned Deep Throat. Does Mulder really want to know it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Lonely Man

**Author's Note:**

> What began as a simple retake of the episode has turned into a grand reinvisioning of the mytharc, starting with the events of en ami. It is also intended as a multimedia experience, so if you want to see the full format, please read at   
> DISCLAIMER: for continuity, some borrowed lines from the episode. You’ll know which ones they are. Also a tiny bit of ts eliot.   
> References to lots of past characters and episodes.
> 
> And we all know this by now: not mine, not yours, unless you’re CC, 1013, or Fox. You ARE? Oh, sorry, carry on, then.

“I’m a lonely man, Dana.”

The clinking of forks and wineglasses, all the background noises of fine dining, warped and receded as his words pounded themselves over and over inside her head:

“...I’m a lonely man, Dana.”

She stared at him, completely thrown by the naked emotion in his voice.

“...And you’re a lonely woman, aren’t you?” he continued. “Or have you forgotten that you are a woman?” 

“What are you trying to do?” It came out in a trembling whisper.

“I’m not trying to do anything, believe that for once. I just don’t think you and I are that different.”

She snorted then, a huffing, unladylike sound, which made his mouth twitch.

“Why is that so funny? I understand you more than you think, Dana. Let me tell you about yourself, and you can tell me if I’m wrong.”

“We’ve already played this game in the car,” she said slowly, carefully.

“Ah, but you didn’t play, did you? Come on, humor an old man.”

“I hope you don’t think that you can pass as a dottering old canasta player.”

“Touché. I’ll tell you what. Consider this a gesture of good faith - a truce, if you will.”

She gave him the raised eyebrow. Years of surveillance told him this was a good sign.

He forged ahead.

“I’ll tell you about yourself, and you’ll tell me if I’m wrong - and then you can do the same for me. We’ll be even, equals. And we’ll both learn a few things I think we’re curious about, hmm?”

He took a long, purposeful drag. Scully stared at the burning ember, transfixed. She could feel the situation slipping quickly out of her control. Somehow that knowledge angered her to the point of realization. She had to decide now if she was ever going to regain control of her life. 

The glowing tip became the sole focus of her vision. How had she come to be on the closest thing she’d had to a date in years with the one man she was supposed to despise? How was it that they seemed to be in the midst of a self-help session?

She had endured so many mulderdumps in long suffering silence to bring her to this. And now that it was her turn, what would she do?

She would not fail in the way that Mulder had with this mission. She would not be intimidated by this man - or any other. She would play his game.

Already she had contacted Mulder, via the maildrop and wire, which made this unlike his infamous ditches. She had learned from her partner’s mistakes. 

She would not fly off half-cocked the way he normally did. She would not let her anger towards this shadowy man keep her from receiving his information. And she would not let Mulder’s anger or worry keep her from investigating the one thing they both wanted - the truth. 

Liar that he was, across from her sat the only man who could reveal it. 

She could not look away even as she heard the words come out of her mouth.

“All right.”

As if to signal this uneasy alliance, she saw her arm extend itself across the table and her fingers flex out for the cigarette. 

He smiled then, a tight, wry smile, which was astounding in its very existence.

“I didn’t think you could do that,” she quipped, pulling hard on the cigarette. 

“I didn’t think *you* could do *that*.” he countered.

“Do what?” 

She handed it back to him, their hands touching briefly. She pulled hers back and studied it. Surprisingly, her flesh had not rotted off the bone at that contact. 

“Do what?” she repeated.

He smiled again, wolfishly. “Something Mulder didn’t want you to do.”

She looked up sharply. “Mulder doesn’t own me. I do what I want.” 

Her voice held both challenge and concession.

“I don’t believe you, Dana. I think you’re here with me now trying to prove that very thing.”

She drained her wineglass, unsure of what to do...or say. 

He raised the bottle in silence and tipped it to her glass. Then another long drag, a knowing smirk. 

“So, -Scully-“ 

The deliberate use of her name got the desired effect. Her head shot up and they locked eyes. 

“Has it worked?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

This was a mistake. 

She had thought she could out-manipulate him, but she couldn’t even figure out what he wanted, what he was after. 

He shook his head. “I suppose that’s not fair of me. Why don’t you tell me at the end of our trip, hmm? Tell me if Dana Scully feels like her own woman, free to make her own choices, free from the confines of Fox Mulder’s Plan For Her? That’s what we both want, isn’t it?” She just stared at him as he continued. 

“Yes, we’re not that different, you and I...both trying to distance, or at least distinguish, ourselves from those we work with...both witnesses to extraordinary and unbelievable things...both unable to find a place in the normal world... Both...misunderstood.”

The last word hung between them like an offer.

“I suppose you have a few points there,” she admitted, brave with wine. He had always been either one step ahead of or behind them...Antarctica, the military silo, and God knew where else...

He was one of the only people who knew The Truth, who understood. 

It was a small world she had been reduced to: herself, Mulder, Skinner, the Gunmen, even Krycek and the Smoker. The world was divided into Those Who Knew and Those Who Did Not, and she no longer had anything in common with Those Who Did Not: her mother, family, friends. They knew nothing of the things she’d experienced, what she now believed. But the Smoker did, even if he was the cause of it all. He Knew, and he seemed to know her, too. He knew what would get her attention. Better than Mulder, even...

For he alone knew The Truth, far better than they did. Wasn’t that what their fight had always been? To find out what he knew? Somewhere in this man was the real truth, and he was offering it to her. He was offering it now in return for her trust. 

The same thing Mulder had wanted. The man was smart. 

He knew the one thing she would not want to give; the one thing that Mulder would not want her to.

Her trust.

That was only supposed to be for Mulder. 

Mulder.

“I only trust you, Scully...” How many times had those words come from his mouth, demanding a similar response from her? 

But it had not been true.

He had given his trust to Diana, despite Scully’s evidence, despite her warnings. 

Despite her request.

He had refused to believe her about Kevin Cryder.

He hadn’t trusted her with Jerse, with Padgett.

How was this any different?

Reluctantly she felt a burgeoning trust beginning to form, followed by a wave of self-revulsion. What would Mulder do if he heard the words “I trust the Smoking Man” replace the gospel “trust no one”?

He would hate her, that’s what he would do.

Would she betray him then, if she were to believe this man? Had she done so already, by choosing to go with him, and exclude Mulder?

 

Although revulsion had kept her from analyzing it further before, she suddenly understood the full significance of her recurring dream about Krycek. Countless nights she had dreamt about spreading a nude Krycek across Mulder’s desk, scattering papers, right in front of her partner. Mulder was always engrossed in a file, glasses perched on his nose, sipping coffee, crunching seeds, completely unaware of the hardcore fucking taking place not two feet away. As Scully mounted Krycek and rode him hard on the desk, Mulder’s only response was: 

“Scully, hand me that file.” and “Can you keep it down, Scully? I’m trying to work.” 

Perhaps Mulder was too self absorbed to see that the truth could come from the strangest of places. Perhaps she did feel marginalized.

No. She had to put a stop to what was happening here. 

She would not be fooled by the Smoking Man’s careful manipulations. They were not on the same side. They were not. 

“Even if I do feel a certain...frustration... with Mulder, it doesn’t make me anything like you.”

“Let me ask another question then. Does Mulder understand these things about you? Does he know how you feel: marginalized, obfuscated? Resentful? Disconnected? 

“I’ve spent a lifetime watching people, blinded by what they thought they wanted, lose that which they desired most.”

It was his turn to look away, exposed. She knew he counted himself among that number.

He recovered quickly. “I know what you want - and what you need.”

She finally had something to work with.

“Are you trying to seduce me?”

He smiled grimly. 

“As if I could do that.”

It was unbelievable, but he sounded - dejected.

“What’s the matter? I thought you were the great manipulator. All-powerful. I thought you controlled the world. You can’t manage to get one rogue F.B.I. agent into bed if you want to?”

It was his moment of weakness that made her say it. She saw her one chance to hurt this man; in fact, it was the only time she’d thought of him as a man, as vulnerable. But when she saw real pain flash across his face, she almost regretted it. Almost. 

He spread his hands open as an admission of defeat. “Look at me, Dana. I’m old, I’m sick. My *great powers* unfortunately do not extend to the bedroom.”

“You’re not that old.” she said without thinking and immediately clamped her lips shut. He raised an eyebrow - an exact imitation of her, and drew in a breath of smoke slowly.

“So you’d sleep with me, then?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Of course not.”

She did not like where this conversation was headed.  
She emptied the glass of wine. He filled it before it even touched the table, knowing its flow was the only thing prolonging their conversation.

“Your turn.”

She had forgotten; they were playing a game. 

She could not back out now; she had invested too much, and had given in too much to Mulder already. She would not show a single sign of weakness to anyone ever again. She would beat the Smoker at his game and then show her success to Mulder. She would do what her partner could not; understand this man, and unravel him. 

 

She looked into the Smoker’s eyes, and into his mind.

Suddenly she saw what Padgett must have seen in her, but she was astonished to find it here... in this man. Just like the writer, she saw the smoker’s heart.

He actually had one. 

Knowing *that* gave her resolve. She could do this.   
She took a deep breath and employed everything she’d learned from Mulder.

“You...you have forgotten what it is like to talk to someone. To let your guard down. To have a dinner. To tell the truth. 

“So you look for someone outside the world, like you, someone who will know how much it costs to sit down and pretend, even for a few hours. You look for someone who is desperate enough to accept your invitation.” 

She smiled grimly.

“And here I am.”

“You’re desperate, Dana?”

She stared at him pointedly. “You have something I want. Now I want to know...what do I have for you?”

He exhaled smoothly. He’d give Scully her answer.

“All the things you’ve mentioned. You’ve already given me that. But of course you know I want more.”

“Of course.”

“Always suspicious, you’ve learned well.” He leaned in close, pressing toward her. “I know you think I’m evil. Maybe you’re right. You don’t trust my intentions. You don’t trust this trip or this conversation. You blame me for most of what’s happened to you and Mulder. But ask yourself this: why are you still alive? Why is he? With all the deaths you’ve seen and all the trouble you two have caused, why haven’t you just been eliminated? Now ask yourself who has had the power to protect you through all this? 

“Who has kept you alive, Agent Scully? For years you have been asking yourself, who took you, who performed those tests? Maybe the question you should have been asking is who brought you back?”

She was looking down now, shaking her head to everything he was saying.

“No? If you don’t believe me, give me an answer for why you two aren’t dead, hmm? You’re a logical woman. Tell me any other reason that makes sense. And then tell me why you’re here on this trip if you haven’t secretly thought this was true all along? You know The Truth now, don’t you? That’s what this trip was all about. You know now what Mulder doesn’t. It’s taken you years to figure out what I knew from the start.

“Now ask yourself why? Why have I done all these things? Am I just an evil old man? If so, then why even bother with all this? Why all these escapades through all these years? And before you say that I just enjoy seeing you and Mulder suffer, ask yourself this one last thing...unless I’m incredibly foolish, why would I risk it all for a few cheap thrills?

“What have I been fighting for this whole time? You’ve become a profiler yourself now, Scully. Tell me, what has been my motivation?” 

He rose, and nodded to her. “I’ll leave you to think about that – Scully.”

It took her a full minute to regain control of her breathing. Part of her screamed that she should run, while she had the chance. Bolt out of there and back to Mulder before she got in any deeper. But another part of her urged just as insistently that to turn back now would be imprudent. She was so close to what she wanted.

Her head was spinning. The truths he had thrown at her were more jarring and confusing than any of his lies. Against her better judgment she gulped the last of the wine to steady her nerves. The last thing she needed was to be drunk; but she had felt drunk since the conversation started. Time was running out. Stay or go, Scully, stay or go?

She laughed sharply as she realized she thought of herself only as Scully now. Her order to Ritter had sealed her fate. Dana was gone; she was Scully now, and Scully was an investigator. Scully was after The Truth. Scully was not afraid to find out how the world ends, and if she could save it. 

With that clarity came the certainty that she would stay. She would see where this was going, for better or worse. She had enough invested to take the risks. Mulder wouldn’t go home in this situation, and neither would she.

She straightened her shoulders and slipped into full Agent Scully mode just as a touch fell on her back.

“Dana.” He had returned, his voice insistent. “We have to go now.”

She shot him a look of mock anger, her confidence returned now that she had chosen a course of action. 

“Without dessert? You’re a cheaper date than Mulder.”

He smirked at her. “So it’s a date now?” He took her arm as he ushered her out. “I’ll tell you what, I’ll provide a suitable dessert when we get back to the cabin.”

“Don’t get any ideas,” she warned him, stiffening at his tone. Yet she couldn’t help noticing that they’d been falling into a verbal sparring pattern much like she and Mulder shared. What was happening here?

“Where are we going?”

“To get what you came for.”


	2. Her Driver?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder panics.

Mulder picked up the phone and tried her cell for the millionth time. He’d spent hours by the phone: dialing; listening to her flat, recorded voice; leaving messages. He no longer cared that the later ones were pleading, desperate. That he’d get no answer was certain, he just didn’t know what else to do.

“Hey, Scully, it’s me. Pick up if you’re there. Scully? Are you there? All right, I just got, I got your message and I hope everything’s okay. I’ll try on your cell right now.”

“Scully, it’s me. Just wondering where you are, if everything is ok? Give me a call when you get this, all right?”

“Scully, it’s me. I called your mom to see if I could help, she said there’s no family emergency. Tell me what’s really going on so I don’t worry, okay?”

“Scully, it’s me. I haven’t heard from you yet. Maybe you called while I was out...just...call me.”

“Scully, it’s me. Maybe you have your phone turned off. Well, call me when you check your messages. I left one at your place as well...let me know, okay?”

“Scully, look, I’m getting worried. If you don’t want to talk to me, that’s okay. Just leave me a message telling me you’re all right.”

“Scully, God, did I do something? I don’t know what to say here, you’re really starting to scare me. Just tell me what I did to make you ignore me. I don’t care if you’re angry, just... you know me, I panic. So tell me not to panic, okay? Tell me you just want to kick my ass or something.”

“Scully, I can’t take this anymore. If I don’t hear from you I’m going to come looking for you, and I know how you hate that. Tell me I don’t have to panic, Scully. Tell me you just need some space.”

“All right Scully, I’m going to your place. Then I’m finding out where you are.”

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

He stood in the center of her living room and ran a hand through his hair viciously.

Nothing.

He was a federal fucking agent and he had found nothing. 

Think Mulder. Use those super F.B.I. powers. Who might have seen her leaving? Who might she have spoken to? He could canvass the neighbors...  
No, that would take too much time. He needed quick answers. 

The landlord.

He was the fastest option. 

Thinking quickly, Mulder moved around the room to straighten papers he’d strewn, chairs he’d toppled. Finally satisfied her place looked the way he’d found it, Mulder closed and locked the door behind him.

“What couldn’t you tell me?” He leaned against the door, aching at the fact that there was something she couldn’t trust him with. She had obviously packed a bag, and she hadn’t wanted him to know where she was going. 

In full flagellation mode, Mulder immediately feared that she was leaving. For good leaving. Maybe her scientific mind had gotten tired of so many questions and so few answers. Maybe she wanted to try to forget that monsters existed. Maybe she wanted to try to forget about the chip in her neck that no one understood. More likely, she had just gotten tired of him.

Things had been so varied between them lately. Close and conspiratorial one day; cold and distant the next. It seemed to fluctuate from case to case. Maybe she’d gotten tired of guessing. God knows he had. Maybe he’d been missing some signs, some signals...

No. He was sure she wouldn’t just leave like that. 

Blinking away an angry tear, he pulled himself together enough to fabricate a story that would have Scully’s landlord grant him access, and hopefully, answers.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Mulder didn’t need his super F.B.I. powers, as it turned out; which was good since they’d failed him so miserably on his first foray into Scully’s place. Her landlord was talking a mile a minute, giving up information as easily as if Mulder had worked him over. Which, incidentally, he’d been more than prepared to do.

“Great girl,” the guy was saying, unlocking the door. “Independent as they come, you know, but a great girl.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Mulder answered, trying like hell to remain calm through the small talk long enough for the man to give him some real information. He couldn’t wait.

“You said she was carrying a-a suitcase?” This was sounding less and less like an abduction. “Did you notice anything else, anything abnormal?”

“No. No, actually it wasn’t her carrying the suitcase. It was her driver.”

“Her driver?” Mulder couldn’t help the panicked tone in which his voice squeaked out. This was getting worse. Scully hadn’t just taken some time off from him, as he’d been hoping. Fearing? Wherever she was, she was with someone she didn’t want him to know about. This wasn’t like her.

“Yeah, older guy, tall...” the landlord continued nonchalantly. “I’ve seen him here before. Smokes like a chimney.”

Holyfuck.

In that instant, Mulder knew who was behind this. He had taken her again. It was too much to hope that she would be returned a second time.

He was running before the guy had finished swinging the door open. God only knew what that black-lunged bastard was planning...

“Hey, don’t you want-“

Mulder was already gone, racing toward the only person who was willing and able to help.


	3. The Flask

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “She says she’s fine.”  
> "She's in trouble."

Walter Skinner was not having a good day.

He had already dealt with two official censures, a child-kidnapping case, and an inter-state animal-pornography ring this morning. Agent Fox Mulder was high on the list of last people he wanted to see right now.

But as always, the friendship that had grudgingly formed over the years with his two most troublesome and impassioned agents won out. Taking a long chug from his coffee, he resignedly pressed the intercom. “Kimberly, send him on in.”

Fox Mulder fairly burst through the door the second the message relayed. He must have been hovering immediately on the other side. When Skinner saw the fierce, desperate way the agent approached his desk, he drained the last of the coffee. He wondered if he still kept a flask in the bottom drawer.

“Agent Mulder, sit. What can I do for you?” He let the tilt of his head and his eyes indicate that he knew Mulder was agitated.

“Sir, I-uh-it’s about Agent Scully.”

He offered nothing further and he didn’t sit down.

“I’m listening, Mulder. What seems to be the problem?”

“Sir, I think she’s in trouble. I can’t seem to reach her and she was last seen with our cigarette-smoking friend.”

That got his attention.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++  
Skinner swiped a hand across his sweaty head as he balanced the phone between neck and shoulder and attempted to spike his latest cup of coffee a little more. He had found that flask, thank God. That it wasn’t empty had been the first blessing of the day.

Mulder’s sharp rap on the door came all too soon. Skinner waved the agent in. He could already see the familiar start of Mulder’s unraveling. After all this man had been through, Skinner did not begrudge him his panic, but this time, he just couldn’t see that it was warranted. He barked a quick thanks into the phone and hung it up a bit too sharply. Talking Mulder down when he was worked up was no easy task. He sighed.

“She requisitioned a fleet sedan when she left the bureau yesterday. I don’t know why and there have been no fuel charges.”

Mulder broke in to his explanation. “Her mother doesn’t know anything about a family emergency.”

He was getting that whine to his voice, he needed to be calmed down quickly. Skinner tried again.

“Look, I know you’re worried about the company that she’s in but from what you’ve told me it’s not like she’s sneaking out. The truth is, she’s gone to a lot of trouble to allay your fears, Agent Mulder.”

Mulder must have been getting desperate because he actually leveled with his boss, admitting the real cause of his distress: “I know she can take care of herself. It’s just not like her to lie to me.”

Skinner opened his mouth to say something that would placate his agent, get him out of his office for just a little bit, when the phone screamed out as a welcome reprieve. 

“That’s my private line.” He picked it up, hoping for some good news. His eyes widened in relief. Scully. Thank God. Now Mulder could calm the hell down and maybe he could lock the door and then unplug the phone. 

“Agent Scully, where are you?” Mulder broke into a relieved grin upon hearing this and reached out for the phone, eager to hear her voice himself.

“...well, he’s standing right here, why don’t you do that yourself?” he continued, really hoping to put an end to at least one of the problems of the day.

At Scully’s next words, however, his hopes were dashed. For the second time he feared he was going to be sick. She was refusing to talk to Mulder. There would be no calming him now.

Mulder grasped out for the phone again like an eager kid, not bothering to hide his growing smile from Skinner. God, this was really going to hurt.

He watched the smile slide from Mulder’s face and steeled himself against the coming storm as he placed the phone back in the cradle.

“She says she’s fine.”

Mulder nodded once, immediately, as if he had just received confirmation of what he knew all along. 

“She’s in trouble.” 

He turned abruptly and left, leaving Skinner to lunge instantly for the half-empty flask.

His day was only going to get worse.


	4. The Truth

The path was narrow, and somewhere to her left a stream gurgled. She was traveling with more ease now that her eyes had adjusted to the dim light the moon shed through the canopy of trees. She allowed herself to look up as the trail leveled, and saw the Smoker’s surprisingly nimble figure silhouetted against an unnatural light beyond a stand of dense spruce.

They had been walking for at least an hour. The car was far behind them, sitting on the side of a dirt road. The beginning of the path was identical to every other square foot of roadside that they had driven past for 15 miles, and yet it did not surprise Scully that the Smoking Man knew just where to enter the forest.

“Where are we?”

He stopped abruptly, and turned. The moonlight glinted off   
his eyes and she read in them anger, and some fear.

She got the message.

Another five minutes passed, walking in silence.  
Finally the forest melted away, leaving them in a strange cropping of vegetation. Before her, in the center of the woods, began a faintly shining concrete path.

She remembered bee-filled bubbles hidden amidst a cornfield and felt the first lickings of fear. How easily he could kill her right now. 

Her hand moved to the gun on her hip, which wasn’t there. She only hoped he had chosen to tell the truth about leaving his gun behind as well. She swore to herself that at the first sound of buzzing, she was gone.

They continued along the glistening stripe, until she could see formations, buildings, creating a quad, which hummed and glowed and had no business in the middle of the woods.

“Where are we?” she asked again.

He pulled a cigarette from his case, lit it, and took a slow drag before answering. He seemed more than a little amused.

“You wanted to see the truth, didn’t you? Well, I’ve brought you to it.”

“If you’re going to show me that, then why not tell me where we are? Why all this secrecy if everything is to be revealed?”

He looked surprised at her annoyance. 

“My dear Dana – Scully,” he corrected himself. “Surely you know by now that I do not control all of this. You have already seen that there are those who would not want me to show you. Surely you don’t think we could have just waltzed right in – and left alive, do you? You have said that you extend me at least a small measure of trust right now. So trust me when I say that it is really better if you do not know everything just yet.”

They were moving towards the middle of the place, and she could see several smaller paths like their own all emptying into the larger clearing. It was dark and they were quickly moving past many things she didn’t understand, but it was certain that had he wanted her to identify any of the objects, they would have stopped.

“Although it is true that my colleagues and I share the same goal, it doesn’t mean we agree on how to get there. Two of them died for far less than what I am about to do. Many do not feel that you have a place in this plan, but I should rather like to see that you do. To that end, I have offered various...protections. And now I am offering you knowledge. Equality. Power.”

His steps hurried now. If Mulder was right about this man, and it was her death they were moving to, then she was almost upon it. But the thrill she felt in her bones did not feel like the fear of death, which she knew well. Instead she felt as if her blood was humming, racing faster, as if something inside her had been switched to high gear. 

He stopped just as she saw a glow emanating from the center of the plaza. His hand fell to her arm and she jumped, startled.

“Are you scared, Scully?” It was the most human she had ever heard him sound. “It’s all right. Perhaps you should be. But there is one thing I do not want you scared of.   
I am not going to kill you here. I need you to trust me.” 

Trust NO ONE

“Trust me.”

She finally voiced the burning question. “But why me? Why not Mulder? He’s the one who’s been involved in this since birth. Why not bring him?”

“Mulder does not yet have the ability to see what I am about to show you. He will believe in the most outlandish thing if it fits into his vision of the way things are. And if it doesn’t, he rejects it outright. I gave your partner the truth years ago, but he was not open to receiving my message, a nonbeliever in the face of a miracle. But you...” 

He dropped the cigarette and reached for his breast pocket.

She was suddenly more scared than she had been the whole trip.

“Not everything dies, Agent Scully.”

Scully’s eyes began blurring.

The back of her neck burned.

*For thine is the kingdom*

Her head was rushing. 

*“You already had all the answers. I just had to make you believe.”*

He turned then, and she saw the impossible. The back of his neck bore two raised bumps.

“No...” She moaned softly. It couldn’t be.

“See, as I said, we aren’t all that different.”

The back of her neck was on fire.

*“This is the way the world ends, Agent Scully.”*

He reached over and touched the box from his pocket to the base of her skull, and she felt her whole body jerk.

*For thine is the kingdom*

Images began to fly by her. 

She could see a huge egg, -a ship- looming in the distance, perched upon a stem-like object, a loading ramp? 

The rushing in her ears grew louder as a huge piece of machinery came into view, a tall spire with swinging arms, sweeping nearly to the ground.

She feared it would slice her up until that too rushed past. Or did she move past it? Was she seeing a vision or reliving events? Was she being shown what was to come? 

A huge pool now came into view, lit from below with eerie light. She could see bodies curled in the pool; wires, hoses, snaking out from them like tentacles. 

Her head filled with whispering in a language she did not understand. 

Sheer buildings rose now, tall and thin, one after the other like dominoes waiting. Each one stretched high into the air.

More cloudy voices now, but some of these were familiar. 

Approaching from the bright darkness were figures, and if she could have, Scully would have screamed.

These men were dead.

Am I dying? She wondered as they floated closer. 

“You don’t.” 

Bruckman’s words rang in her ears. The back of her neck burned.

“There is nothing to be done for it.” Fellig said, just as he had before.

“Explain it to me!” she screamed to the phantom Bruckman, the phantom Fellig. “Explain this!” 

But their previous words just repeated in her head. How could they explain what they had not understood? Their ignorance, their fear, had killed them both. They had moved toward the death she avoided. The death she always avoided.

This is the way the world ends  
This is the way the world ends

She should have known, when she saw the ship in Africa. It was here first, it had said, and it would be last.

She should have known, when she woke up in Antarctica.

Clues had been spread for her spanning the world, and still she hadn’t believed.

She should have known, when she woke up from the coma and had an implant. 

How many times had death passed through her hand?  
The clasp of Bruckman, the clutch of Fellig, Deep Throat in her arms... 

You don’t. You don’t.

Had it just been dumb luck that she narrowly escaped death so many times? Even now she could still feel the swing of the axe above her neck, the approach of Pfaster, of Schnauz.

 

“He's coming and you should just make your peace.”   
Fellig repeated.

They’re coming and you should just make your peace

They’re coming

They’re coming

They’re coming

And she saw the world on fire, the atmosphere burning from so much traffic. She saw ship after ship stream down from the sky. She saw the black cancer consume the whole world.  
She saw those who lived divided into two. Most became hosts, vessels, chattel. Those who remained were the chosen few, the equals, the ones who had helped. The marked. 

She heard herself screaming.

The back of her neck burned.

Those who lived were the ones implanted with Their knowledge, with Their consciousness. Their immunity. Their implant. 

This is the way the world ends

The last thing she saw as she flew towards the ship was a cluster of Them, whispering in that language, until one turned to fix a direct gaze on her from its black, flat eye.

You are one 

She gasped, sucking great lungfuls of air into her panting chest. She was unsurprised to find herself on the ground, the Smoker gently touching her forehead. She did not move away from his touch this time.

“Do you understand now?” When he spoke, his voice to her seemed different, kinder. Equals.

He had kept his word. She had seen, she understood. 

They were coming. And there was only one way to survive.

Not everything dies.

“No one can fight the future, Agent Scully...all you can do is play your role.”

“I believe.” she whispered, wishing Mulder could hear her.


	5. No One to Turn to

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As he muttered promises, he feared he would be doomed to revisit forever that feeling of reaching out for the phone; grasping, excited, only to have his hand return empty.
> 
> Empty.
> 
> The same way it always returned.

Mulder was lying listlessly on the couch in the dark. His lips moved in silent supplication, mirroring the mouths of his fish. He stared at them unblinkingly, as if their graceful revolutions could reveal her whereabouts. He had been so wrong. 

He did believe in God. He knew he believed because he had not stopped praying, not even for a second, since his confirmation that she was in the hands of The Smoking Man. Over the past two days he had come to know, rather intimately, the God he’d so easily dismissed. He’d found that he had no one else to turn to.

He no longer had any favors to call in, any allies in high places. The only people willing to help, Skinner, the gunmen, had done all they could. He would even turn to a traitorous bastard such as Krycek at this point; he was so desperate. 

The last time she was missing, he’d been prepared to give up his badge, the X-Files, anything to get her back. He knew now that nobody gave a fuck if he did. He’d ceased to be a threat to them. He’d been grasping at straws for so long, no one cared anymore. By the time he finally got to The Truth, he feared there’d be no one listening. The only thing that mattered now was Scully. Scully and her chip. 

He’d said that the truth was in her, and he feared now that the Smoker knew the same thing, and had decided to eliminate his liability. This was Mulder’s only theory as to what could have spurred the Smoking Man’s sudden interest in Scully.

But Skinner wasn’t so sure. He seemed to think that Scully wasn’t in any immediate danger; that she had left of her own free will.

Then why the lie?

To a man for whom the truth was the holiest of grails, this lie seemed a glaring red flag. 

A signal? 

A hint that she needed help?

Skinner thought it more likely that it was a red herring.

But he couldn’t be right, could he? Scully wouldn’t just leave like that, not with *him*, not without telling her partner. Would she?

She had to have been under duress. He wasn’t sure which option scared him more.

He started praying again. He was really getting the hang of this.

If she only comes back safe, I’ll never ditch her again...

If she only comes back safe, I’ll tell her I believe in God...

If she only comes back safe, I’ll tell her how I feel about her...

As he muttered promises, he feared he would be doomed to revisit forever that feeling of reaching out for the phone; grasping, excited, only to have his hand return empty.

Empty.

The same way it always returned.

The same thing that happened every time he tried to reach out to her. He’d told her he loved her and had come back empty. 

Maybe Skinner was right; maybe she had wanted to leave. But what Skinner didn’t share was Mulder’s mounting panic that she wasn’t coming back. If she had left unwillingly, as Mulder suspected, then she was in great danger. If she had been willing to leave with the Smoking Man, as Skinner insisted, then Mulder was in great danger. Because what the hell would that imply? What was going on with Scully? What was she thinking?

He thought a particularly low moment was when he played her one message to him over and over, hunched above the answering machine in the dark, straining for some little clue, some change in inflection...

The fear and helplessness washed over him a physical wave, and he was too tired to fight it now. He let image after horrifying image flash through his mind uncensored:

Please accept my resignation from the bureau, signed Dana Scully. No forwarding address...

Mr. Mulder, we need you to come down to the morgue and identify a body...

Or maybe she would just never be found, like Samantha, another gaping question to eat away at his sanity.

A sob broke from his chest as he felt his body go limp. He rolled ungracefully off the couch onto the floor with a loud thud, and stayed there.

He shuddered awake in the same position when the phone rang at 2 am. 

It was in his hand and at his ear before he even knew he was awake.

“Scully?”

He heard a sigh from the other end.

“Yes Mulder, it’s me.”

“Oh Scully, thank God-“

“I...I just wanted to let you know that I am home. Safe. I’m all right.”

“Scully, where have you been? I want- I *need*-“

“No Mulder, not tonight. I’m tired. I’ve been through a lot and I need to sleep. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. I’ll see you at the office.”

“But Scully?!”

“Tomorrow, Mulder.”

She hung up before he could sputter again.

He was at the door instantly, tugging on his jacket, angry and hurt that she could shrug him off like that. She didn’t want to see him after he had spent the last few days in agony, worrying?

Bitch.

As he turned the knob a single thought occurred to him.

He was a dumb fuck. 

Had he learned nothing in his ordeal? Give her some time, space, if that’s what she wants, before she leaves again and doesn’t come back this time. 

She’s home, she safe, she just wants you to wait until morning. 

She’s safe. 

That’s what you asked for.

He gripped the doorframe until he trusted himself not to bolt right out. With an audible sigh he removed his jacket and collapsed back onto the couch, head in his hands. His mind was pounding with worry relief anger pain helplessness...but above all, the obligation that his guilt commanded. He realized that he so rarely did what she asked of him. 

He was going to start. It was that simple. 

There was no way he could sleep now, but he would do as she asked. Tomorrow, though, he was expecting answers...


	6. Today

At 5:15 he gave up feigning sleep and stumbled off the couch, into the bathroom. He twisted the shower knob savagely and stepped in with a gasp, hoping the hot water would indemnify him; burn away the old Mulder and leave a better model in its wake.

He gritted his teeth and withstood the punishing scalding for as long as he could. Today was the day. He would show her he could change. He would listen to her story; he would show her how he’d missed her, been worried. He would not immediately put her on the defensive. He would not get angry. He’d let her know how important she was. Today was the day.


	7. A Date?

Mulder knew he was one of the first people to arrive at the Hoover building that morning. The stale air of the parking garage was stagnant and silent. The sleepy guard waved him on quickly, making Mulder wonder if tax dollars were being well spent.

He had stayed away as long as he possibly could, but he had to see her now, he couldn’t stand it. And being here, in their office, made him feel closer to her, even if she wasn’t due in for another hour.

Coffee.

He would have coffee waiting for her. She would like that. He was going to handle this situation differently. Going to do it right just this once. He would not be defensive; he would not attack her with questions. He would let her see that the important thing was that she had come back safely, and he would let her explain her actions at her own pace.

He smiled as he went about preparing the coffee. He even had enough time to get her a muffin, one of the big ones she liked, from the bakery around the corner. His grin grew bigger. Scully would like that. He was going to do this right. It was a new and improved Mulder; she wouldn’t know what hit her.

He was really feeling good when he returned with the bag of muffins. Exiting the elevator, he paused in midstep. Something brown lay down the hall, propped against the office door. He saw it right away; there was no way he could miss it. Someone had dropped off a large envelope while he was gone. He bent to pick it up, thinking more about Scully’s pending arrival than about the envelope’s possible contents. 

He tossed it onto the desk, sniffed the coffee appreciatively and selected just the right muffin for her, arranging a little “welcome back, Scully” feast on the desk. Only after surveying his work carefully did he move to open the envelope. His heart began to thud as he slid out the contents and instantly recognized Scully’s red hair.

Pictures of Scully.

Someone had been taking pictures of Scully.

Fear started to claw away at his good mood.

He glanced over at the waiting coffee and muffins as if their cheerfulness could steel him against whatever he was about to see. He took a deep breath and pulled the stack of photos all the way out.

Any question as to when the pictures had been taken was answered by the identity of her companion.

The Smoking Man.

Someone had really done a rush job to get these to him.

In the first picture they were in a car. Mulder put on his glasses to study the picture closely. Maybe he could figure out where she’d been...

He picked up the second one. Same car. But this time the mood was different. Scully looked upset, angry, her mouth was open as if they were arguing. What had that bastard said to her?

Third picture. No car this time...what the hell? What was going on? Scully and that bastard were in some kind of restaurant, and she was- she was-

She was wearing something straight out of his fantasies. Or maybe his nightmares. What the hell was she doing wearing something like that with the Smoker? He literally gaped at the photo in both desire and horror. She looked so beautiful, so confident...what was this, a fucking date?

The thought made him laugh, but the sound shattered on the cold basement walls as the early morning silence reclaimed the office.

They were toasting in the next one; he raised it to his face to make sure he wasn’t mistaken. A look of understanding seemed to be on both their faces as their glasses touched in midair.

“What’s going on here, Scully?” he moaned aloud. Her attitude in these pictures was really starting to worry him anew. She wasn’t acting like she’d made a trip with the devil; she was acting like she was on a fucking honeymoon, damn it.

The next one was the absolute worst. They were leaving the restaurant and that bastard was ushering her through the door, his hand low on her back.

In his place.

The one place he had been allowed to freely touch her. 

He had thought it was so special, so important, every time he was able to place his hand on the small of her back and smooth his fingers over her form, savoring even that innocent contact. But here was the evidence of how much he had been blowing that out of proportion all these years.


End file.
